


Last Light

by meiqis



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: I don't even know as what to tag this, M/M, it ain't angst it ain't fluff it ain't smut, just enjoy the mood and drown?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 14:13:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15144863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiqis/pseuds/meiqis
Summary: A broken mind and a broken body meet when a police officer is torn apart by his own work and a barkeeper has seen too much darkness in his life to be able to see anything but





	Last Light

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a whim and with a bit of a Sin City (although I didn't watch the movies in years) and Gotham mood in mind

Gold. Swirling and twirling and with ice cubes clinking against the glass, it seemed to be the always same, every evening, always the same time, always the same bar, always the same stuffy air, painted grey with cigarette smoke and air ventilation that didn’t work, and he should be bothered be it, he knew he had once been bothered by it, but after years and more years, after night after night, he couldn’t be anymore, because he was too used to this smog and too used to these drinks and too used to the fingers that seemed to grace his with every passing step.  
He didn’t know when it had happened, how it had happened, but he knew he was too young be like this, to have lost all hope, to feel drowned out in a world supposed to be colorful, because he had seen too much of it, and slowly colors had turned dull, had turned into all the shades of grey until all he could see was red and red alone, saw red everyday because he was supposed to see red, was supposed to see the suffering of humans, was supposed to see children beaten up and women murdered in bed, was supposed to see bodies torn apart by bullets and fire, and it was eating him up, it was eating everyone up who had once harbored the wish to make a desolate city like this a better place.  
Some people might think it only happened in comics or movies, a city in which crime ruled instead of law, in which police officers were forced to abide the rules of killers because killers were the ones they couldn’t stop, in which a woman could be happy to marry a good man because too many ended up on the streets, addicted to drugs, sold to other men, in which children had to be more afraid of getting kidnapped than losing their balls while playing in the yard, a city that was nothing but fucked up and in which he wished he had never been born.  
A city he had given up trying to save because it was hopeless, for every criminal he managed to take down there were another ten popping up, more victims, more corpses, more crying children and lost wives, and he had become dull, he had started to blur out such thoughts, such realizations, cause they only hurt, until his world became black and white and he wasn’t able to hear, wasn’t able to hear their cries, the pleas for justice, their panicked yells and desperate screams, and all he heard was the clinking of ice cubes against the confinement of a glass filled with liquid gold.  
A world that existed in only shades of grey, a world that was void of all noise, it seemed to be a way calmer world, a world in which he could imagine it was all but a dream, a gruesome and cruel nightmare, nothing more than that, a world deprived of all light, and he thought of that every day when he went into his office, when he looked at his files, looked at all the reports of people mistreated and massacred, because never did they get simple cases, never did someone rob a handbag without stabbing the victim right in the cuts, never did anyone break into an apartment without beating up the inhabitant, never and never and never, and it made him despair and blur it all out.  
A world deprived of all light and all color, he wanted to think of it like that, but every night, at always the same time, always the same place, always the same seat, there was a glowing star passing him by, there were glittering sparks going up whenever digits brushed against his, with dark orbs that contained the whole of a night sky, sparkling stars and glimmering lights, a man so perfect, a man so beautiful, a man so soothing and warming, because he wanted to leave it all behind, wanted to drown his worries and nightmares in alcohol in his mouth and smoke in his lungs, inhaled deeply, deeper, because the one thing he wanted to inhale as deeply and deeper than the smoke of his cigarette was not now available, only poured him another glass, gave him a look that said nothing and all that much at once.  
Sometimes he thought it was funny, that it was ironic, tragic, heartbreaking, how the man pouring his drinks was the one most afraid of alcohol and cigarettes, not because he had said it, he never said it, but he knew it was true, whenever Yanjun lit another of those sticks, whenever he played with his lighter, let the little flame soar up, there was a flinch, the slightest movement, and he didn’t need to ask, didn’t need to question it, because he had seen them, had seen the little round scars on his arms, on his chest, on his hips, small and painful and even if they healed, the ghosts always remained, stuck around in the way he flinched, in the way he leaned away from the fire, from the burning tip, but he always inhaled it so greedily, took in the smoke of kisses and the ashen taste of his tongue, because he didn’t need to ask but he knew, that scars like the ones adorning that slender back, with skin stretching over bones with all the wrong moves, long streaks, crisscrossing on his frame, cruelly white and a contrast too stark, such scars could only be created by people driven mad by alcohol, and he knew it was that, because all the drunkards in the bar, they were never approached, avoided, Yanjun’s thing to deal with so he wouldn’t need to.  
But other times, most times, he just wanted to pull him close, wanted to trap him in his arms, wanted to keep him tightly pressed against his frame, safe, embraced, loved, away from all the evil in the world, away from all that had ever hurt him, away from all the evil, all the cruelty, all the violence in a world too dark and too bitter and too violent and too unfit for a flower blooming so bright, and he always waited, he always did, every night, again and again, because it was the only way for him to forget, only by loving a man so broken and so bright he could forget that the world he lived in was void of all color and sound, a world in which ruining himself was the only way to prove himself he was still alive.

It was hours later and too many drinks downed when the first occurrence happened, and it happened always, because always was a thing in this world, a thing that never changed, because this world never changed, the people never changed, this situation never changed, a situation he was so used to, too used to, with a hand on places it didn’t belong and his shining star stiffening up, tense, freezing in place, and right the next second that hand was off, painfully twisted, limbs turned in ways they weren’t supposed to, and every night Yanjun dealt with his own desire to kill people he was not supposed to kill, people he was supposed to protect, but they never learned, this world never learned, he never learned, but they always did it again, always knowing that they would get beaten up, would risk getting massacred, their limbs detached, by a devil more vicious than these criminal on the streets, because the people wanting to protect what was theirs, those were the people most dangerous in any world, not just in a world like theirs.  
The man, whoever it had been, was but a writhing mess on the ground, surrounded by his friends, with a shoulder dislocated, an elbow broken, and he would have done more if not for the hand on his arm, stopping him, calming him, and a few more seconds passed until he had his star pressed against the wall at the back of the bar, outside, cold air hitting their frames, that lithe body trembling against his but he knew it wasn’t the cold that was as fault, knew it wasn’t shivers caused by freezing, it was nothing of that, never, because he was too used to the cold to still be fazed of it, trembles and shivers were caused by entirely different things, other things, things like the scene right there, just moments ago, and it hurt, it hurt Yanjun to see it, it were burning thorns digging into his heart, tearing it apart, gave him urges, cravings, wanted to just lock him up, keep him hidden from all of this, but he knew it was wrong, knew he wouldn’t be any better than everyone who hurt him before, that locking him up was no better than cutting new scars, because his star just wanted to shine, wanted to glow, wanted to be free.  
His star, who didn’t say anything, who never requested anything, who only poured his drinks and dodged his cigarettes and searched his lips at a moment like this, a kiss so soft, so gentle, asking for all the protection and all the safety, asking for a sanctuary and warmth, asking for all Yanjun was able to offer, and he always gave it, he always gave him all that, replied to gentle kisses with even more gentleness, tightened his arms around a frame so slender he was afraid he’ll break it, pulled him close, close and closer, wishing they could just become one, and they always did, they did the moment they arrived at his star’s home, stumbling into his bedroom, and Yanjun sat down, stripped to his underwear and sat down, in the middle of the bed, watching, waiting, waiting for his star to return, to follow him, and he did, he always did.  
Turning off the light, that was always the first action, turning off the big lights installed to the ceiling, covering them with the curtain of darkness, and he could always just assume, could only guess, think it was because of these scars, all these scars adorning a person who was supposed to be beautiful, who was beautiful, beautiful and messed up and deserving so much more.  
Turning on a smaller light, that always took place next, a little lamp in the corner of the room, because he acted tough, his star never said it, never pointed it out, but his star, his beauty, he was afraid of the dark, he couldn’t sleep without light, couldn’t relax, he was tense, afraid, but he knew, because he always knew, and he could assume, because he only ever assumed, that night time was when he had been assaulted, when he had been touched in all the wrong ways, hurt, scared, so he never protested, whatever made him feel safe was right.  
So he never pushed, never rushed, because it only mattered for his little star to feel safe, so he waited, and waited so patiently, and he watched, watched how slowly he peeled out of his clothes, with movements more graceful than what was right, more graceful than was supposed to with a man like him, a man who had gone through so much, but he did, he moved with such grace, always with such grace, and Yanjun easily forgot, forgot about the world outside, the crimes, the screams, the cries, the yells, because it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter in a room void of most light but still shining so bright, because his star always made it shine bright, illuminated his life, the room they shared, and he shined brighter with every single step.  
Until a light weight had settled on his lap, bare legs brushing against his, and like always, he waited for the first touch, waited for fingers to graze his chest, moving up, palms molding against his shoulders and keeping him in place, holding on tight, as if it was a lifeline he didn’t want to have cut, a lifeline that kept him together, kept him in check, and only when he had settled, when he had calmed down, brazed his heart, Yanjun finally made his move.  
With gentle kisses against jaw, neck, collarbones, shoulder, with his fingers tracing scars, skin, flesh, and he waited, took it slow, until his star had eased into his touches, relaxed, not scared anymore, caught in a world that was only theirs, was gentleness and little kisses, was caring and grazing and never going at it rough, because rough is what they had all day and rough is what they hated, rough is what they tried to escape, finding solace in an embrace that was nothing but tender and warm.  
It was a night that was nothing but tender, nothing but warm, was all deprived of words and mutters, a night that was lingering touches and lasting kisses, that was hugging each other and pulling close, close and closer, that was hips pushing slowly, gentle, softly, as if every move too harsh could break the glassern frame of the body in his arms, that was all little breaths and silent gasps, choked in kisses and against skin, a night that was nothing but gentle and nothing but soft.  
A night that was always over too soon.

Red, red and more red, a pool of red in a world he refused to see in color, and it was a pool, because corpses had been thrown into water, left bleeding into blue until it was red, the kind of red where one used too little syrup for their drink, the kind of red that was pitiful, sad, never satisfying, and maybe for that reason it was easier to bear, was easy to just flick his cigarette into the water because it was just another case, a case they wouldn’t be able to solve, with criminals never to be caught, it was just that, it was always just that.  
So he didn’t even bother anymore, he only waited for the forensics, to secure the place, take their hints, because no one was alive either way, there was no one to interrogate, no one to ask, because in a house as deserted as this, where all the inhabitants had been able to do was to call the police, too late to request help, to ask for support, to be saved, too late to allow them to catch the perpetrators, too late, always too late, so he didn’t anymore care about being late.  
It was only as he looked around, saw a sparkle in the woods, silvery, shimmery, that he got curious, more curious than was good maybe, with a hand around his gun, crossing the yard, closer, further from his star, and he didn’t know why he suddenly thought of him, of that beautiful smile he showed in the morning, little, timid, when he pulled the blankets up over his shoulders, covering his scars, the bigger ones, but the small ones were always revealed, the small ones were where he planted his kisses at night, wanting to kiss the pain away, wanted to kiss the traces of fear and anxiety away, and he never knew whether it worked but he wanted to try, because trying was all he could do with a man like this, all he could do with his star, with his beauty.  
And in a world of black and white, he thought that maybe sparkling things were the most fascinating, in a world where he refused to recognize the trees as green, the sea as blue, the sky is more than a grey mess, it really was fascinating to see things light up, attract attention, bright, shining, and he was weak, like a blackbird wanting to collect treasures, always searching, always stealing, but maybe he was the one who was now stealing.  
Two corpses, again, he couldn’t even bother cursing the police officer who had found this house, before he had arrived, taking the role as detective, a role he didn’t want, had wanted for too long, their bodies decorated in bullet wounds, explaining the gun in the pool, it was so obvious, just too obvious, the family that had been at the pool, surprised by the thieves, shot down, the father, he must have had the gun, still properly dressed compared to his wife, to his kids, shooting back, hitting two, a third one gone, a third one to drag the corpses into the pool so chlorine would erase all traces, had taken their winnings, escaped, based on the traces of wheels, two motocross bikes left behind, two bikes and two corpses, and one bag.  
A bag stuffed with money, a bag no one would miss, a bag no one knew about, because no one had paid attention, they never did.

One bag had turned into two, because working alone was a crime, lead to crimes, and he committed them all, he stole what was left behind, made it to money, kept the money, stored it safely, until he had been sure he had had enough, that there was nothing more they needed, no more to run, to escape.  
So he broke the curse of always, with a car loaded with money and his wrist around slender bones, looking at the only person that was in color, the only person he could see, with honey hair and dark orbs that contained the stars of the night skies, a person he couldn’t be without, a person he could only love, a person who was all he needed, a person he urged to save.  
“Run away with me,” the older said, looking into sparkling eyes with all his might, with all the feelings he had, wanting to convey it, to convey it all, his sincerity, his feelings, that he was serious, that he meant it, but he only received a smile that was as fake as their government, a smile that never reached eyes, was but a blank mask, a smile that the world was shown, a smile that wasn’t the one he saw with the beginning of day, wasn’t a smile that was gentle, that was warm, wasn’t a smile that was only for him.  
“We can’t run away,” he just said, slender digits, moving around with such grace, with so much elegance it hurt his heart, not bothered that this wasn’t as always, that it wasn’t the usual time, that it wasn’t the usual seat, that it wasn’t the usual smoke filled room, because even always didn’t last, because every curse could be broken, and Yanjun wanted to break them all, wanted to erase them, all their pains and all their sins, he just wanted to see that smile, wanted to see it again, and again, and all over again. “How should we be able to run away?”  
Burning thorns, tugging at his heart, tearing it apart, watching how liquid gold was poured into a glass with ice cubes, all too graceful, all too elegant, all too tearing at his heart and ripping it away, all too overflowing, liquid gold spilling over, edging at the top, running down in streams, flooding the counter, dripping down, because he hadn’t held back, had pulled his star closer, over the counter, had leaned in, had started another kiss, a kiss that was forbidden, because this was not yet their world, this was not their personal space, this wasn’t where they were alone, a kiss that was forbidden and all the more tempting, a kiss that was all this and all that, a kiss that was not like always.  
Pulling back, looking at lips glistening from the force, swollen and red, beautiful, looking at eyes, with stars having gone out, dimmed down, dark and tempting, he knew he had won, and a glass bottle was dropped, broke into shards, was discarded, left behind, like the counter that was climbed, until his stars was jumping into his arms, pulling close, pressing tight, with lips that locked again, with a world that drowned out, because who cared about a world so dark, so void, so dull, when there was a star right in front, a star he could hug, catch in his embrace, a star that was his and his alone.  
A star that got into his car, a star who only picked up the necessities from home, stuffed into a bag, just that, just so little, because neither of them owned much, because owning much was not what they could afford, because owning much was a downside, backfired, in a world where everything was stolen, everyone was ruined, and with his star in the car, with a seatbelt around his frame, he didn’t hesitate anymore, pressed down on the pedal, pushed through, racing out of a car that was always the same, always dark, always sad, always covered with a veil of grey and black and white, always this, always that, always drowned out noises and blurred views, always just pain and more pain, always just killing and shooting and stabbing and fighting, always just corrupt, always just a bloodied monster that could never be satisfied.  
But the further he got away, with the silence in his car, the further he got from the city, the more the colors returned, not anymore refusing it, not anymore filtering them out, acknowledging trees as green, the sea as blue, the sky as more than just a mess of grey, with sound reaching his ears, sound of waves crashing against the cliffs they were following, the screeches of birds, the salty breeze, the sweet scent of flowers, bit by bit, coming back, and it all returned to how it had once been, further and further away, with tiredness never overcoming him, not him, but his star, curled up in his seat, small, vulnerable, covered by a blanket when finally he took a stop, got some coffee, needed to look for a place to spend the night, a place to spend their lives, a place he could afford with ease, a place they needed, a place to make his star feel safe, a place that was their own world.

Stars sparkling in the night sky, shining bright, he thought that for the first time he was able to see them, for the first time he was able to notice, was able to notice stars that didn’t just sparkle in eyes, didn’t just shine in dark orbs, shined high above, replaced eyes that were hidden by sleep and sleepiness, but never did they manage to drown out the star in his arms, with his eyes immediately turning down, to that little weight he held, a little weight he carried in, into a room for a night, a room that was theirs for a night, a room like many they would see, until he found a place that was right, a place that was safe, a place to protect what he loved, who he loved.  
Settled on a bed that wasn’t Yanjun’s nor his stars, it was only then that little body stirred awake, with sleepy eyes looking at him, sleepy eyes directed at him, sleepy eyes that were asking for more, in a room hardly illuminated, and he was willing to give just that, to give more, to always give more.  
“Do you trust me?” He asked, fingers grazing fabric that wasn’t his, tugging at clothes, pulling them up just the slightest bit, and when he received a little nod, the sole reply, he knew it wasn’t just about getting undressed, could never be about that alone, was about more, faith, loyalty, feelings, but losing clothes was a first step, to undress his star who had never gotten undressed by him, to help him, aid him, to slowly reveal pale skin and a body too thin, slowly, with time, because he was always slow, patient, gave him time to adjust, because they had all the time they wanted.  
“Lin Yanjun,” his little star whispered, muttered, not because he knew, words of wonder, reading from a police tag that was still attached to his belt, the thing he had always thought of as grey and dull being gold and sparkling, his name carved in at the bottom, written there, placarded, for everyone to see. “So this is your name?”  
Big eyes looking at him, enchanted, fascinated, with burning thorns digging into his heart and this time it was him to only nod, not managing to utter a word, because he had never registered it, had never wasted a thought on it, with years that had passed, years filled with glasses of golden liquid and ice cubes clinking against their confinement, years of drinks poured and cigarettes dodged, years they had spent in the same bed, but never had they exchanged names, never had they needed to call for each other when all they needed was but love, was gentleness in a world so rough.  
“Zhu Zhengting,” his star went on, every syllable clearly enunciated, with eyes still bright, still innocent, still sparkling well, and this time he replied, repeated such name, rolling off his tongue, saw the little flush on cheeks so carved, made him smile, a smile that was reciprocated, smiles that reached eyes and hearts, smiles that were replaced by a kiss, deep and slow, a kiss that was no longer to blur out another world around them, no more to create their own world, a kiss so filled with feelings, with fingers grazing and roaming to free a stranger body of clothes, skin against skin, lips against skin, whispers into the air, and there was a breaking the eternal, there was an end to every curse, because not everything was always, no always was an always.  
There was an always that was gentle kisses and lasting touches, that was slow movements, because too rough would break what they had, there was no always that was only soft breaths, was only little gasps, there were little whispers of names they had just learned, names that were still foreign to their tongues, little confessions of trust, loyalty, happiness, little this and little that, all little in a night so far, so long, a night that belonged to them alone, a night that ended too soon, a night in which they left, and with the curtain of night still low on the stage that was the earth, he pulled up at the coast, helped a star that now had a name out of the car, helped him to sit on the roof, because such little weight could hardly do any harm, could never break through, and he waited, waited and watched, watched how a star turned into a flower blooming with the sun rising so far away, with skies colored all hues of the rainbow, but all he could see was a star shining bright, brighter than any other thing ever could.

“I love you, Zhu Zhengting. Do you trust me?”

A smile.

A nod.

Because that was all he needed.

All he craved.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's a mess and badly executed but you know what? peace'n'out
> 
> get my writing updates on [twitter](https://twitter.com/zhengjunist) or send me better prompts on [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/dadting)


End file.
